


Diving Into the Sun

by Itar94



Series: Building Neutron Stars [16]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Culture, Alpha Rodney McKay, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BAMF John Sheppard, Episode: s04e10 This Mortal Coil, Episode: s04e11 Be All My Sins Remember'd, Episode: s04e12 Spoils of War, Episode: s04e15 Outcast, M/M, Marines, Mpreg, Omega John Sheppard, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Replicators, Season/Series 04, Travelers, Wraith, Wraith Replicator War, alternative universe, sexism in an a/b/o setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itar94/pseuds/Itar94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are thirty-eight heavily armed Replicator ships out there.<br/>It’s a wonder Atlantis still stands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They’ve searched and searched for new ideas to seek out and destroy the Replicators once and for all, but nothing comes up. They run into dead ends one way or another, over and over, and the new dawns give little inspiration. But there’s got to be a way. So many human worlds have fallen in vain, in the Replicators’ new strategy to defeat the Wraith. Rodney tries hiding it but John notices, of course he notices, how the alpha eats less and sleeps less and how he sometimes wakes in the middle of those rare nights when he actually tries to rest, shaken from a dark dream.

He won’t stop blaming himself. If he hadn’t found that old command stored in the depths of the Replicators’ base-code, if he hadn’t re-enabled it, so many lives would have been saved. If he hadn’t - (Elizabeth. that one large disaster. the biggest regret.)

And what words could soothe him? John has tried, just like the scientists have tried reprogramming the world, just like they’ve tried finding solutions to destroy the Wraith, but Rodney turns away muttering and avoiding his eyes. _I’ll be OK when the Replicators are gone,_ Rodney had said. _Then I’ll be OK._

* * *

When John enters his twenty-fifth week, a flesh and blood copy of Elizabeth Weir sends them a message from the Alpha Site.

* * *

The team waiting for them is just like them, but their memories are false and their veins full of nanites. It’s unsettling to come face to face with himself and a Rodney with the wrong kind of scent.

The copy of himself isn’t pregnant, and his memories have been altered into believing he doesn’t even have a daughter. That he and Rodney have never had a child, that perhaps it isn’t even possible. The other John looks startled and then, probably just as weirded out as he, sends out a mix of emotions: disbelief, sadness, bittersweet envy.

While the two Rodneys - whoa - seem delighted at this new opportunity to knock their heads together and are already working at full speed, Teyla and Ronon both draw back in uneasy silence. His other self glances at him with shadowed eyes, a twinge of longing buried within the haze, a look John only spots because he knows himself, and he’s not sure if anyone else notices.

These people aren’t real, they have been alive for a few weeks and not whole years, and their memories are not their own. It’s frightening to know that. And what are they going to do with them? They cannot be brought back to Atlantis, that is too great of a risk. They don’t have that many options. They cannot just let them run loose either.

Copies or not, they are alive, and they deserve to continue living.

* * *

Elizabeth Weir is dead.

She looks at him smiling sadly. “I’m sorry, John. But she’s gone and I’m not her.”

They’d always hoped. Always believed. Always held onto the illusion that one day, one day they would find a way to get her back.

* * *

The copies sacrifice themselves to save them, the originals, shattering the thought that they might not be human after all, no matter that they were constructed in a lab.

* * *

Elizabeth Weir is dead.

They’ve already attender her funeral, seen her empty casket being sent back to Earth along with empty echoing words, but John had refused to grasp the truth. She had taken him to the Pegasus galaxy, she had gotten him through the Stargate. She’ll always remain the true leader of the expedition.

Cleaning out the last remains of her life is more difficult than it had been putting away any other lost expedition member’s private items into anonymous boxes. The last memory of her he’ll have won’t be of her copy, John knows; the image of her wide eyes as she’d shouted at them to Go! Leave! as they’d left her on the Replicator homeworld will remain burned to his eyelids.

* * *

Rodney has been working nonstop for seven hours when John goes to check on him, yet again, bringing a sandwich and some fresh coffee from the mess. Hopefully it won’t be long now until they’ve cracked the device so that they may track every Replicator Aurora-class warship in the galaxy. That would be the first advantage - the only advantage - they have.

As the arrives the alpha is buried in his laptop, eyes dragging across the screen tiredly as he types away. With Radek on leave because of his and Lorne’s baby on the way, Rodney’s decided to work on this alone. Or more precisely he’s kept working incessantly and frightened every other scientist out of the room with his sharp words, as he grows crankier and crankier with every hour without success.

John pulls up a chair next to him, eyeing the quite empty screen sitting waiting on the table hooked up to the laptop and the device. “Anything?”

“Nearly there.”

“Rodney, you’ve been working for over seven hours. Take a break. That thing isn’t going to disappear overnight.”

The alpha just looks at him sharply and John knows that fire burning in his eyes; he’s had that flame of determination and guilt flare up within him before, far too many times, and John understands just too well how it feels, so he doesn’t protest when Rodney squares his shoulders and shakes his head.

“I have to finish this.”

* * *

There are thirty-eight heavily armed Replicator ships out there.

It’s a wonder Atlantis still stands, and John twists and turns restlessly the night after this revelation even if he’d known all along that their enemy is strong and merciless. But thirty-eight ships. They’ll have two now that Carter urgently has called for reinforcements in the form of the Apollo, to join the Daedalus in the hunt. They might get lucky at first, destroy a handful of ships perhaps in sudden ambushes before the Replicators figure out they have this new intel. Then what?

Thirty-eight versus two.

If the Replicators decide to launch a strike on the city, they won’t make it.

They’ve got to stop them all before that happens.

* * *

“We need to reprogram them, figure out a way to sever the nanite bonds,” Rodney says during one of the briefings and how many times hasn’t he? “The Wraith could help with that. This is the sort of thing he’d do in a week while it’d take me - more, though I could do it, of course I could,” Rodney goes on, sharing a knowing look with his mate.

Yeah. He could help out. And he too wants the Replicators badly destroyed, so convincing him will be easy. But then they’ll be back to being enemies yet again, and John has started getting used to the fact that, while not quite a friend, the Wraith down in the cells is now an ally. The Wraith is a bit like having a live grenade in his pocket; he can never be sure when it’ll blow or, when it does, if it’ll take out himself or his enemies. But he can always hope and keep a close eye on the pin.

* * *

"Don’t worry, we’re ahead of schedule," says Ronon but John can’t stop pacing.

The Replicators are out there, attacking one human world after the other, relentlessly. The Wraith are out there too, for once not their biggest issue. And so many people are dying - the real number is unknown, only a guess. Thousands, hundreds of thousands. Maybe a million, at worst. Civilizations wiped out in the blink of an eye, and they’re unable to stop it. They can only jump ahead and try to warn people. Earth has sent the Daedalus and the Apollo, but they still haven’t arrived. The plan is to have the two circling the galaxy, trying to find and destroy as many Replicator ships as they can. But they’re just so many and can build a new army swifter than what’s comprehensible, and Earth can’t send any more ships. This is all they’re going to have.

The thin line of defense.

"I know," John murmurs, watching Teyla approach. They get a hint of Kanaan there, by the threshold, saying goodbye and wishing good luck. The omega always does when SGA-1 leaves for a mission, now sans Rodney most of the time because he’s working on finding some way to defeat the Replicators. A strategy, a plan. Anything. A weapon. Meanwhile, all the rest of them can do is try to take preventive missions by finding human worlds, warning them, warning their allies. Trying to find safe harbours.  
John has made a deal with Carter to let him go on some of these missions; Lorne will take a quota as well. But he can’t just sit and wait in Atlantis while the galaxy is under threat, and Sam understands that.

Ronon is glancing at him now. "All the settlements that we’ve been assigned have been evacuated."

"Yeah, I know, I know, it’s just that most of the planets that are in the Replicator’s path are people we haven’t talked with before, so I need you and Teyla out there as much as possible." They have contacts, both going in different directions across the galaxy, a general hands-on knowledge that the rest of Atlantis’ inhabitants don’t have. Teyla’s diplomatic skills is a huge boost in gaining people’s trust.

It’s not easy, of course, for anyone to accept when a bunch of aliens suddenly step through the Stargate and tells them that they’re in danger, that they need to leave their homes. Already resistance has been encountered. There was an issue with SGA-12 just three days ago, on this green moon orbiting a purplish gas giant. The natives hadn’t believed them and used violence to get them out, and Lieutenant Greene had received the blunt of the blow. Keller is fearing she won’t be able to walk ever again - she was sent back to Earth two days ago for specialist treatment. John had been there to see her off; another good soldier lost in the cause. (Not a grave being dug, but Greene isn’t going to be back on duty again and she knows it.)

"Seriously, Sheppard, you’d sit down for a moment," the Satedan says. "Keller says getting your blood pressure up isn’t good for the baby."

"I _know_ what Keller says."

He meets Ronon’s stare stubbornly and holds it. After a while the guy grunts. "See."

Teyla walks up the stairs. Kanaan is still watching them, anxiously. Of course the guy’s got to be nervous. To be a permanent resident of Atlantis is still rather new to him, John knows, the omega must feel a little isolated away from New Athos. But he’s decided he wants to stay with Teyla and have their baby here. And now he’s got to watch her leave through the gate every second or third day, unsure if she’ll ever return.

"John, Ronon," she greets. "I apologize for being late. The appointment took longer than anticipated."

"It’s all right," John says. "Everything OK?"

"Kanaan feels well, and Jennifer says the baby is developing fine."

"That’s good to hear," he answers, relieved. At least one thing less to worry about. "All right. Let’s head out."

* * *

But then Chuck looks up from a computer screen, surprised. The Stargate’s lights start rotating and on automatic the security team, always on standby in the Gate room, take up position around the naquadah circle, arms raised. "We’ve got off-world activation!"

John walks back up the stairs to the technician’s side. "Who is it?"

There’s a tense few seconds of waiting as the IDC is relied. "Kemp’s team."

"Let them through." They’re not due yet. Something must’ve happened.

The iris is lowered, and then Lieutenant Reese steps through along with a dozen or so refugees. It’s a steady stream; more and more people. It could be a village, or a town about to come here. They’re frightened, bewildered. Some are carrying leather bags of meagre supplies, just what little they could carry on their backs. Children clinging to their parents tightly. Something in John’s throat knots at the sight. One wave too many. This isn’t have to be happening. These people have just been forced from their homes to an uncertain future - will they even ever be able to return?

There’s a video transmission. It’s Kemp, kneeling behind a rock, some brushes, next to a heavy-issue gun. Hiding, kneeling in front of the MALP. There might be Replicators entering the atmosphere at this very moment. _"Most of the settlers are on their way,"_ Kemp says, _"but a lot of people decided to stay behind. I’m not sure they believe us, sir. I’m requesting Teyla come back and talk some sense into the stragglers."_

He looks at her. The ships could be there any second. "Colonel, I wish to help," Teyla says.

"She’ll be right there, Lieutenant," John starts, but then:

A whining noise overhead, distorted by static. And they see Kemp ducking, peering at the sky and his face paling. A hand reaching for a gun, while shouting _"Incoming!"_ and they can do nothing but watch as the noise becomes unbearably loud and there’s smoke, rising. The echoes of screams in the background. Panic.

Kemp leans toward the MALP camera. _"It’s too late! They’re coming!"_

"Lieutenant, get your men through the gate," John orders.

_"I can’t, there’s still too many people left -"_

And then the image disappears.

"We’ve lost the transmission," Chuck says, voice heavy. The gate just shut down.

"Dial back!"

* * *

They try, try again. It won’t lock.

The Stargate must have been destroyed.

SGA-8 was a damn good team and now they’re all lost, shattered except for Reese whom John sees standing there in front of the chaotic mass of refugees, staring aghast at the empty Gate. Two thousand people have just died.

John wants to scream. But he must retain a calm face. Be in control. Carter is already on her way, having been hailed via radio, and she’s running to the nearest transporter. She can’t save those who have been lost, but she could help the few that managed to get here.

A handful of grains of sand in the desert.

* * *

Two days later, both the Apollo and the Daedalus arrives in orbit around New Lantea. The two Colonels are beamed down directly to the control room, and John is there with Carter and Rodney waiting for them.

"Good flight?" Sam asks, and Caldwell shrugs.

"Long flight." They’ve been pushing the engines to the maximum just to get here before it’s too late.

"I hear you have a new way of tracking the Replicator ships?" Ellis asks. As always thinking practically, directly, ahead. He has no time for chit-chat. He’s here to get a job done.

"We do. Let’s go to my office and we’ll brief you."

* * *

On the way there, John finds Caldwell falling into step with him. It’s just a quiet glance, really. "By the way, I hadn’t had time to congratulate you, Sheppard."

It takes half a second to comprehend. Never having expected such acknowledgement, John smiles lopsidedly. "Oh. Thanks, Colonel."

"The timing must be ... grating."

"The timing of the baby or the Replicators?"

The alpha pauses. "I guess both."

And John lets out a short, dry laugh, understanding completely. "Yeah."

* * *

Of course, they’re not that interested in the technicalities that Rodney launches into. What they want to know, need to know, is that it works, that it’s reliable, that it’s useful. John understands that, but at the same time understand Rodney’s passionate need to also explain it. His mate hates it when people assume without knowing, or worse, people assuming while thinking they know things that they in fact don’t. But that stubborn Colonel Ellis is ignorant and won’t listen, albeit Carter agrees with him and Caldwell does also understand the urgency and has worked with him in the past enough times to know the edge of his brilliance. Ellis doesn’t hold that faith or comprehension, and John can’t convince him because the Colonel barely listens to him at all, that odd omega in command - being pregnant certainly doesn’t help. (Nor does it help that Ronon glares down the man and threatens to do very painful things to him if he as much as looks at John the wrong way. Not that John doesn’t appreciate the sentiment.)

"... and it’s this recent discovery of the essential duality of this particular stem of the nano sub-code that has opened up a whole new world of possibilities of a permanent deactivation of the nanite bonds -"

"Rodney," John cuts in, and Caldwell sends him a grateful look. Ellis isn’t pretending to look interested. Even Sam’s patience seems limited now, and she usually can manage to listen and nod and even add ideas when Rodney gets into this mode. (Then she sometimes would just look at the him and Rodney and smile, trying to hide it but John knows, sees it every time. It’s come to a point where it no longer bothers him.)

"I’ll let you know when I take questions, thank you."

OK. Maybe he should’ve let Ronon be here. And by Ronon he means Ronon’s particle magnum (set to stun).

"Have you created an anti-Replicator weapon or not?" Ellis asks curtly.

"If you’d just let me finish explaining, I think you’d have a better understanding of the complexity that I’m -"

"Yes or no, Doctor."

Rodney pauses, hands in mid-air, brain freezing for a moment at having the tirade interrupted. Then he sort of shrinks a little, hands falling down, lost in the motion, and he looks at John - like asking OK, what’s this guy’s problem? and John jerks his head a little, discreetly, Honestly, can’t you figure it out?

"Uhm, no."

Sam clears her throat. "All right, we move on to plan B."

"What, just like that?" Rodney exclaims, upset.

"Rodney, the Replicators are destroying every human colony they can find. We can’t wait. We have to act now."

"But, plan B isn’t a good plan!" Exasperated he gestures at the screen where the Replicator code, all written in Ancient, is continuously scrolling past their eyes. Like wanting someone to interrupt and say, Your plan’s much more genius, Rodney. Someone such as John, but the omega knows this isn’t the time. His Rodney’s clever, but Carter’s right.

They can’t wait any longer for the scientists to come up with a new anti-Replicator weapon, since they’ve grown immune to the old ARGs. Using the Apollo and the Daedalus to strike the ships, which at least can be broken , is basic, guerrilla-style, but it should work at least for a while. It’ll have them do something.

"Oh no?" says Ellis, eyebrow raised.

"Sure, the Apollo and the Daedalus have been retro-fitted with the new Asgard plasma beam weapon which given are very, very powerful, but they still can’t destroy the Replicators."

And therein lies the dilemma. Only the ships will be destroyed, not the machines residing within them.

"But we don’t have to destroy them," Caldwell puts in, "only their ships. I mean from what I understand, once they’re exposed to the harsh environment of space they’ll essentially be neutralized."

"Well, ’essentially neutralized’ and actually neutralized are two different things," Rodney says. He’s going to stand firm by his point, unwavering. "Look, you way leaves a bunch of Replicator cells lying around just waiting to be re-activated. My way shuts them down for good."

"But our way is actually operational," Ellis argues. "And what exactly is your way? From what I can see you haven’t gotten your programming done yet, let a lone a delivery method."

Rodney makes a face and John feels a flare of irritation toward Ellis on the alpha’s part. The Colonel hasn’t been here to see Rodney’s sleep-deprivation, the endless hours spent in the lab. He hasn’t seen how little time and energy Rodney has managed to muster to spend with their daughter. he doesn’t know that right now, Rodney’s spending of his days exchanging ideas and writing code side-by-side with a Wraith. Ellis doesn’t know about any of that. Even, though, he is right. They have theories, but still so much data to go through, still too many loose threads and still so much work to do. (Radek has radioed him now and then, almost pleading for him to come and drag Rodney out of the lab. Just get him out of there for a few hours, because he’s been driving the science team mad.)

No wonder Rodney doesn’t like the Colonel, John thinks. They’re both very stubborn and loud about their self-confidence, so it’s natural that they should clash at some point or another. Plus, it was Ellis who came here those months ago, demanding that they destroy the Replicator ships - in order to save Earth at length, yes, but that decision had led to their leaving of Lantea. It had led to Elizabeth’s downfall. Caldwell, for all his faults, is more subtle about it, and has spent more time around Atlantis. They know the guy better, trust him.

"You didn’t let me finish my presentation!"

"I think I got the gist of it."

Rodney is on the verge of giving some a real dressing-down and John feels with him, and would have offered to punch Ellis in the face if the man wasn’t technically above him in rank.

"Really," the alpha frowns.

"Rodney," John murmurs form where he’s sitting on one of the white couches. Hoping that within that one word he conveys much more, and that the alpha senses that. But it’s too late. Something’s snapped. The combination of stress and now this, well - it’s just too much.

He’s ignored in favour of staring angrily at Ellis. "Really? Since when did the Colonel here become a maths and physics expert?!"

Now, finally, the guy must be realizing his mistake. Has to be. This could get violent, John thinks. For real, maybe even, because despite the two’s differences they’re also both alpha. And both are proud and Rodney’s angry and has Ellis even ever seen Rodney properly angry? John doesn’t think so. Few people have. They think they have, but they haven’t. Caldwell himself is starting to look uneasy and Sam is standing there, maybe a little disbelieving. She sends him a brief, worried look over Rodney’s shoulder but John can’t focus on that.

No, Ellis hasn’t got it yet.

"Doctor, you came to this meeting knowing that you had nothing. But instead of just saying that like a real alpha, you thought that you’d dazzle us with a lot of fancy talking, thinking we’re to dumb to notice."

The outrage and the hurt - John isn’t sure if anyone but him can properly recognize the emotion in Rodney’s expression as what it is - "Oh, so now you’re questioning my manhood!?"

Finally Carter intervenes. "All right, that is enough!"

"No! He just told me -"

"Rodney," John cuts in. He hates having to do this, because Rodney might leap to conclusions now, thinking he somehow wants to hurt him too. But they don’t have time to argue about this. Even if Ellis is acting way out of line, and that blow was fucking low. He forces his voice to be calm, soft. "Move on."

(From the corner of his eye he sees Ellis’ face, mouth tight, eyes narrowed. Yet there’s this slight shift when seeing John give that order, because it’s not the order from a CO to a subordinate. It’s an omega giving an order to the alpha they’re mated to. One thing that some people still aren’t used to in this age, that Ellis isn’t used to seeing. Would probably not believe it either if he wasn’t present to hear it.)

A breath. Rodney’s on the verge of breaking his facade and John would like to stand up, draw him out of this room but he can’t. Not with Ellis, with Caldwell here, not with these pressing matters at hand.

"Look. I think we got this tracking system down, I think we could peg where they’re going to be within a thirty minute window. And given current data we got at least twelve hours before any of their ships is even close to an inhabited planet. Give me a few more hours to crack this. If I don’t, you can just feel free to go ahead and open up with your beam weapons."

In the silence, Carter nods. "All right. You have ten hours. Go."

Rodney stalks away, shoulders tense. No good luck follows in his wake, and words have stuck in John’s throat. Once Rodney’s out of the room, Ellis exhales. "I don’t understand how you guys put up with -"

"If you ever talk like that to someone under my command again," Carter cuts in before the man can finish, "you will not be welcome on this base, Colonel. Is that clear?"

It’s not a shout, but the opposite, each word sharp like a knife in its clarity. It’s not sure if anything changes, but Ellis eventually nods a little. "Yes."

No ’Colonel’ - not a definite answer. Still some defiance. (But, John thinks, if he’d been the one to stand up and say that, he’d just be given a condescending smile instead of an answer at all.)

"Good. We’re done here. Thank you."

* * *

John lingers for a while more while Ellis and Caldwell take their leave, going to their respective vessels to prepare. They’re both already set on their plan. In their minds, Rodney has already failed. He failed before he even begun. When the two alphas have gone, Carter sinks into the seat next to his heavily.

For a moment neither of them speaks. He’s not sure what he wants to say, anyhow.

Then she says, "I’m sorry about that, John."

"I’m not the one who needs to hear that," he counters.

He looks at her. He sees now just how wearied she has to be. This has barely just begun - they don’t know how long this war could be. Before the Replicators are destroyed. Now to have these tensions among themselves atop of that is not helpful at all.

"How are you holding up?" he asks.

"Oh, just fine," Sam says. Rubbing a hand across her face. "I was gonna ask you the same."

"Just fine," he echoes, and they share smiles. Fake and forced. He almost wants to laugh, in a tired, hysterical way. Instead he takes a breath and swallows it down.

"Actually," she says, hesitating just a little, "I was meaning to ask about the baby. Keller mentioned you’d had another ultrasound yesterday?"

"Yeah." A bit grateful for the change of topic, he nods. "Doing OK. Everything looks good. We decided not to ask about the sex, though." That had been his decision, mostly.

"Will be a nice surprise then. And - no side-effects or anything, considering ...?" She leaves the question open, in a way that very few people could catch on.

"No. Keller couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I haven’t felt anything, either."

"Good to hear."

(One of those few things nowadays.)

* * *

"Time’s up."

"What? So soon?" Confounded, Rodney glances at his wristwatch for the first time in ten hours. Oh.

"I guess that means you’re not ready."

"No, I’m not."

"Then it’s plan B." John taps his earpiece. "Carter, this is Sheppard. Rodney isn’t finished yet, so you’re going to have to go for a ride."

"Copy that," she answers. "I’ll be aboard the Apollo for the first run, to make sure that this works. Meanwhile I’m leaving you in charge of the city."

"Understood. Good luck."

"Thanks. We’re going to need it. Carter out."

"You’re not going with them, are you?" Rodney asks suspiciously.

"Nah. Don’t think either Colonel would be too fond of it." An omega late in his second trimester on their ship while heading for battle? Yeah, right, as if. (Ellis would probably consider it a token of ill luck.) Even though Carter might have allowed it, neither Ellis or Caldwell has offered a spot, even as a spectator instead of an officer. Besides, since Sam is going with the Daedalus, she’s leaving him in charge in her absence. He’ll have to enjoy watching the video records later and see the results that way. "You should take a break, Rodney."

But the alpha shakes his head. "I’ll stay here. This needs to get done."

* * *

John goes to bed alone that night, like far too many nights before, alone, with the dim lights cold across the windows. Despite the lulling of the crashing ocean it’s difficult to fall asleep, and there’s a twinge of pain in his back and he’s got no one to tell.

Next morning he wakes up to find the other side of the bed empty, untouched, and there’s no note waiting on the datapad on the bedside table. Instead he gets Marie clad and takes her to the mess for breakfast all in silence.

Ronon’s there, but not Teyla. She’s gone with SGA-4 to warn another settlement about the Replicators; a planet they’ve never visited before, but the MALP readings indicated civilization. Teyla is always the first choice on the list for those kinds of first contact missions. They’re not bringing good news.

The Satedan looks up from his book as John skillfully maneuvers Marie into a chair with one arm and puts down the tray with the other.

"Hey. Watcha reading?"

The cover is briefly held up for him to see the title, written in stark yellow letters: The Fellowship of the Ring. Ronon has as of late, in-between other duties, started studying some Earth literature. Both he and Teyla have been offered the chance to study basically whatever they wanted. And so many people had been surprised when Ronon had picked literature, poetry, history, a wide range of things. But John remembers the whispered stories, how Ronon had told him that when he was young he’d wanted to be a poet.

"Asked around for good books," the Satedan says with a shrug. "Johansen lent me this."

"And? Is it any good?"

The Satedan smiles, white teeth gleaming. "I like the fighting scenes," he says, like a complete understatement, and John wonders how the Gate translation matrix is handling the fictional languages within that book. Ronon’s grasp of written English is pretty good now.

"Remind me go show you the movies sometime," John says.

Ronon doesn’t ask how it’s going out there, the ships sent out to fight, Rodney’s programming, none of it. He asks about the baby and Marie, demands to see the ultrasound pictures once more even if he’d been there when they’d been taken. John, having sort of foreseen that might happen sooner or later, pulls a small copy out of his pocket (kept there for days and days), and Ronon peers at it closely.

"We didn’t have this technology on Sateda," he murmurs, fascinated. "How’s it work?"

"Well, they send this beam of sound that’s so low that human ears can’t hear it; it’s sort of like echolocation. And it bounces back and forms an image." He’s still looking intently the picture, and John smiles a little. "Keep that. Rodney ensured we got copies."

Marie, in that moment, decides she doesn’t want any more cereal. They’re still weaning her off the breast, but when she’s upset or just craving that comfort, John hasn’t the heart to refuse her. Besides Keller’s assured him it’s normal, that some kids just take more time with it, it’s nothing to worry about.

"Hey," he says when she crawls out of the chair and into his lap. "Wasn’t that stuff good enough?"

"No." Yeah, definitely inherited Rodney’s stubborn streak. Or possibly his own. She tries crawling under his shirt without another word. When she’s hungry she’s never very talkative. "Daaaaddyy."

Sensing his predicament, because they’re sitting in the middle of the mess and at this hour there’s a couple of dozen people here at least, Ronon puts down the book. "Wanna get outta here?"

John glances around. It’s stupid, this paranoia, this ... this shame. That he should be ashamed of being omega, of feeding his child. Isn’t it? This isn’t a problem he can vent with anyone, not here, not that he’d dare to. Not even Rodney, to be honest. He’d just not get it.

When he doesn’t move, Ronon instead says, "Don’t care about that other people think."

"You know, back on Earth, some places it isn’t even legal," John murmurs. "Doing it in public, I mean."

"That’s stupid," is Ronon’s verdict, firm, clear. The Satedan looks around, at the Earthlings, like they’re alien and John almost laughs because how true isn’t that?

He decides he can’t bother walk out of here. (There’s been too many things as of late he’s foregone for the comfort of other people, and this is about his daughter and himself. He can’t put others before that any longer.)

"Hey, little soldier, let’s get you more comfortable, OK? Look." He manages to get her free and unbuttons his shirt half-way, giving her access, and she crawls into his arms like she’s just that tiny newborn again, warm and snug and craving his nearness, the most basic of instincts. Feeling safe. And he’s the source of that safety, and that’s a sensation more fulfilling than anything else. She doesn’t care about the scar slashed downward across his chest, the echo after being tortured and given back life by the Wraith in a Genii bunker, and John doesn’t bare that scar to anyone if he can help it but now, he decided, he wants to chuck all of that out the window. Just, for a moment, not care about anything but himself, his daughter, this tight little circle.

It’s difficult to be discreet, but Ronon keeps talking like normal and John tries to relax. Tries to make this normal. So it won’t be frowned at. He can still sense at the back of his neck, eyes burning. Trying so hard to ignore it, he wonders if he’s just imagining hearing whispers - but Ronon just goes on talking, forcing those thoughts away. And Marie’s happier, calmer, being given the breast.

Strange, this being the first time he’s feeding her in public. That it’d taken this long to get comfortable with the idea and actually doing it - before, he’s always tried to time it to be elsewhere, or excused himself, found empty corners out of sight and no one had asked about it or cared. Gone into hiding. Isn’t that stupid?

"I’m planning on buying gifts on Balkan soon," Ronon says in-between bites of his sandwich. "Teyla and I are going as soon it’s sorted with the Replicators."

That’s not something one says where the child in question can hear you, because she murmurs, muffled, "LEGO!"

The Satedan catches John’s look. "What?"

"It’s meant to be a secret if you’re gonna buy them gifts." Now they’re going to be faced with Marie somehow including that demand in every conversation ever until she gets what she wants (or forgets about it). Possibly all until her birthday, months for now. (Oh, Rodney’s gonna be overjoyed.) "Otherwise it ruins the surprise."

"Oh." The alpha has the sense to look a bit abashed. Then: "What’s ’lego’?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I sort of published that first chapter by mistake while editing the draft, but figured that it's allright so I let it stay without deleting it and re-doing all the work with tagging and stuff. (ok maybe i was being incredibly lazy)_   
>  _About eighty percent of this fic was written roughly a year ago (more or less), before I ran into a big writer's block regarding this verse, especially "Breaking Down the Walls" (which still isn't finished). Some bits have been added later, or revised, or added to; some are as they were when they were written a year ago. So there might be some discrepancies in style etc. which I hope aren't too distracting, and I apologize if they are._

"Welcome back, sir."

Caldwell accepts the greeting with a nod. He, unlike Ellis, isn’t batting an eye at seeing John in the city up do various duties that he would normally do outside of pregnancy; he may be off active duty, but he can still handle a desk. But out here that is a fine line. He can’t be off-duty when Atlantis, his home, and Pegasus as a whole is being under such dire threat. He’s doing what he can. Including helping and urging on Rodney - and forcing him to sleep and eat regularly - with finishing coding that program. To no avail, though. Even with the expertise of the Wraith in his lab, they’re getting nowhere. Anyway, Caldwell’s been here before, seen stuff that Ellis hasn’t and he’s come to an understanding with John, both of them on much more accepting terms.

"Was in the neighborhood. I thought we’d restock some supplies," Caldwell says.

"How’s it going out there?"

"Splitting us up was a good call. The Daedalus is down to three more ships."

John hums in acknowledgement. "Apollo’s got another two; that brings us to seven now."

Seven down - but thirty more are still out there. It’s a long race ahead of them, and they all know it. And the Replicators are getting more cautious. They’re wondering how come the humans suddenly are predicting their movements, whatever they do, wherever they go - they can’t hide, and it’s got to be making them anxious.

"We’ll need about an hour to get what we need, then we’ll get back out there."

"About that, sir, Carter’s summoning another meeting. There’s been a change of plans."

* * *

They get in radio contact with Apollo via subspace. Right now, the ship is orbiting a star two thousand light years away in a slow circle, hiding in the sun’s shadow as to not be detected by any Wraith in the area.

 _"They’re falling back?"_ Ellis asks.

"Safety in numbers," Carter says.

Rodney nods. "Evidently they haven’t figured out how we’re tracking them ..."

"... or they haven’t figured out how to stop us," John fills in.

"Either way they want to stop losing ships."

"So they’re all heading back to the Replicator homeworld?" Caldwell seeks confirmation.

Sam nods. "That’s right."

_"Well, that’s good. I mean, they’re finally all in one place. We could wipe them all out at once."_

"Ideally, yes. But our two ships versus an entire Replicator fleet ..." Sam shakes her head, sighing.

"Not to mention the drones that will inevitably be fired from the surface," John adds.

"The new weapons we have are very effective, but they are no match for that kind of fire-power," Carter says.

 _"Sounds like the perfect time to finally use that killer program you’ve been working on, Doctor,"_ Ellis says, arms crossed, in the direction of Rodney.

(John has a sudden urge to reach through the screen, hearing that haughty tone, and lay a heavy punch like Ronon’s taught him. Just this prickling at the back of his neck, a reminder of that meeting one week ago, of Rodney’s tight anger and hurt and Ellis arrogant smugness. He wants to tear all that out.)

Awkwardly Rodney shifts from one foot to the other. "... Yeah."

_"Remember when you said that all you needed was ten hours to finish it?"_

"Vaguely."

_"Well, it’s been ten hours - and a week. Are you finished?"_

"Oh, I’m just dotting a few i:s, crossing some t:s..."

Carter cuts in, "Whatever our plan is we need to act quickly. Our current intel suggest that they’re putting all their resources into building new ships. I figure we have less than a week before they’re back again in Pegasus, and in much greater numbers."

"Got to start travelling in packs or our kill rate is going to drop drastically," Caldwell comments.

"We can’t let that happen. We need to take them out while they’re all in one place, and quickly."

They look at one another. Glances are drawn to Rodney, one after the other. But John keeps looking at the others, waiting. Daring someone to say anything. If he had any idea himself he’d scream it right now, but he doesn’t. He honestly has no idea what to do. Plan B is out, plan A looks shelved for taking too long.

They need more time.

"Well, I should, uh, I’ll get back to the lab."

Rodney walks away.

* * *

Another simulation failed. After a countless number of attempts. Rodney wants to dig a hole in the earth and forget himself in there.

"We have to tell them. We have to tell them we don’t have anything."

Sitting in the next chair, the Wraith is somber. "This is most troubling."

"Ellis is gonna love this!" Rodney barely resists the urge to kick at something. But then that might alert the two guards in the room. They’re all too trigger-happy. "I, I don’t get it. We’ve tried reconfiguring your stand-down-code, we tried programming the nanites to turn themselves off; something should have worked!"

"They are a very complex and ingenious design."

"Well, I thought I was ingeniouser! Yes, I know it’s not a word, Mister ... Helpful." The Wraith sighs, and Rodney takes seat again in the chair. Uncomfortable things. Should have them replaced. "All right, look. Maybe we could figure out a way to use the ARGs somehow ..."

"From what you have told me, they have most certainly become immune to it."

Right. "Even if they hadn’t we’d still need to get them all in one place..."

And. There! That’s **it**!

Suddenly he stands up, like a flame has abruptly turned on inside of him and there’s a light, finally, a light. Just a glimpse but enough to - yes, he needs to get on this right away, write it down, _YES_ -

The Wraith regard him with bright, green eyes. "What is it?"

"I think I had my first good idea in three weeks."

* * *

"Our old anti-Replicator technology relied on disrupting the bonds between each individual nanite cell. They just collapsed in a pile of dust, right?" He’s all alight now and he’s smiling. He hasn’t smiled like this for weeks.

"We’re familiar with the technology," John says. Quietly he’s praying to let Rodney finally have come up with something. It’s been too long, now. Soon enough the Replicators will have finished building their ships and they’ll be out in the galaxy again wreaking havoc, and this narrow window of opportunity will be missed. When Rodney had radioed him and Carter and mentioned ’breakthrough’, John’s heart had taken a leap.

"Right, well, the thinking was always to continue down that path. To weaken the bond, to turn them off, sever their connections to one another. Because dust we can deal, with right?"

Carter clears her throat. "Rodney."

Still smiling his _oh-I’m-so-clever_ -smile, Rodney gestures widely with his hands. "We do the opposite. Instead of severing their connections we significantly dial up their attraction to one another. We turn each cell into an incredibly powerful nanite-magnet. You know, one cell attracts another cell, and those two attract two more, and as more and more nanite cells bond to the core group it become stronger and stronger and stronger, to the point where every Replicator cell on the planet, in orbit - all of them are massed in this giant, super-dense blob."

 _Right._ The omega squints at him.

"A super-dense...blob," John repeats. "That’s your great idea."

The alpha looks at them both so hopefully, and with an expression indicating that they’re both so terribly slow right now not to follow him. "It is. Yes, actually."

"And what are we gonna do with this blob? Aren’t we in danger of creating some kind of Godzilla-sized super-Replicator?"

"No, at least not at first! Look, this is not their normal form of bonding. It’ll take some time for them to adapt, to figure out how to function within the new parameters."

"How much time?" Sam asks.

"Oh, well, I hate to speculate..."

John raises an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Look, it doesn’t matter anyway because long before that happens they’re gonna fuse together so tightly they’ll be rendered essentially inert. Remember, this bond is occurring on a subspace level."

And now Carter sees it all, and stands up excitedly. "Which helps them get past the normal repulsive forces between nuclei."

"To the point where their electrons are fusing with their protons, and when that starts happening, they’re toast."

"Yeah, but you’re talking about neutron star levels of density," Sam says.

" _Precisely_!"

Thinking for a moment, she exhales. "Wow."

John isn’t sure if he should be freaked out or proud. He could only follow part of that stuff. Thought the combination of ’fusion’ and ’neutron star levels of density’ probably means this is either a really, really good plan, or a really, really crazy one. Probably both.

Then Carter turns to him. "I know this sounds crazy, John," she says, "but this might actually work."

* * *

Of course there’s the issue of how to make it work. It’s not that easy to just upload a new command into their base code. But Rodney says he’s got a better idea.

"We've got the technology already!" he gestures at the lab, full of equipment necessary to built a Replicator of their own.

John rounds up to him. "Wait, you want to make your own Replicator?!"

"Not a whole one, not human-formed. Just, you know, a block of nanite cells - I’m not talking about creating anything with normal replicating abilities, just a group of nanite cells that can serve as a platform for us to upload the new bonding program. We take it to the Replicator homeworld, we switch it on, beam it into a populated area, and we sit back and watch. Couldn’t be easier." Feeling his eyebrows rising a bit, John exchanges a look with Sam. The smile falls a bit. "Uhm, one slight problem though."

"Only one?" John asks, not missing the amused smile that Carter does little to hide when he asks Rodney this.  
The alpha looks a little sheepish. "The Replicators on the planet will be affected fairy quickly, but it’ll be a significant delay until there’s enough mass to attract the Replicators in orbit."

"So, the ships ought to have plenty of time to escape."

"Unless we disable or destroy them."

"Rodney," Carter says seriously, "they have thirty ships, we have two."

"Well if we don’t destroy them they could just leave, lay low and replicate themselves a new army."

"Thirty ships versus two. It can’t be done."

But John is thinking. And it’s crazy, but this whole idea is - so. Time to say it. "I think I know where to get more ships."

* * *

The Wraith is back in the cell, now that the work in the lab is done, at least for the moment. He doesn’t look too pissed, though, despite the number of guards, the guns pointed at him - must be used to it. Even the bars and forcefield don’t seem to bother him too much. Or he’s just too tired to care.

At first there’d been protests when John had followed Carter down to the detention area to face the Wraith. But, he’s the only human that this Wraith actually seems to listen to. (Beside Rodney, that is, but the alpha is busy working on fixing that new bonding program; Radek has rushed back to help him out with it, insisting on it in fact.) Carter allows John there eventually, understanding that his presence would help to convince the Wraith, though Lorne, watching from the threshold, looks definitely uneasy.

"Depending on what is happening since I’ve been in captivity here, I could easily bring another twelve ships to the battle."

"Twelve ships, willing to fight shoulder to shoulder?"

"For a chance to destroy the Replicators once and for all."

He exchanges a look with Carter. "Which brings the odds down to two-to-one."

The Wraith inclines his head. "An alliance like this must be negotiated. I will need to personally convince them that this is the proper course of action."

* * *

And what other choice do they got? Twelve ships - without that, there’s no chance. They’re reluctant, but Carter agrees. This has to be done. As the marines bind the Wraith’s hands and start escorting it through the halls, toward the jumper bay, John approaches her.

"I should be in on this." She’s probably meaning to send Lorne along with a team. Maybe Teyla because of her connection with the Wraith; might give them some warning if things go downhill. "Colonel, you and I both know that the Wraith isn’t trustworthy and I’ve dealt the most with this guy."

Wariness darkens her eyes. "John, it’s one hell of a risk."

"Whatever isn’t here in Pegasus?"

She goes silent for a minute. Arms crossed she considers, looking away. "Take Ronon and Teyla with you," she says at last. "This doesn’t sit well with me, John, in your condition."

It’s not an illness, not an injury; but he doesn’t raise protests this time. He gets it. This is a situation that’s still completely new to her, and this particular one to them both.

* * *

"One wrong move -"

"I die. I know."


	3. Chapter 3

A heavy hand starts knocking on the hatch.

"Perhaps," the Wraith says, starting to get to his feet as John leaves the pilot seat, "we should remove these." He holds up his hands, secure in the bindings. "I think it sends the wrong message, don’t you?"

"This is a mistake," Ronon mutters even as they slowly get to work on freeing the Wraith. It’s true, what he says: if the other Wraith would see their leader (or whatever this Wraith is to them) like this, there could be a red alert, and next thing they know they’re the all Wraith-fodder.

 _I know, Ronon, I fucking know_ , John wants to say. "We need his help," he says instead.

"Got a bad feeling about this."

Not the right time for quotes like those. "Well, we’re here. Let’s see it through."

And the hatch is lowered with a mechanical hiss and they’re greeted by the sight of four stunners aimed their way. No one moves or smiles or says anything. They have no chance to.

Half a second later, at a command given without movement or sound, suddenly Ronon and Teyla are sprawled on the jumper’s grated floor, unconscious. John barely manages to react in time to catch Ronon’s shoulder, as the alpha is standing closest to him, and ensure the guy doesn’t hit his head and break anything. The Satedan is shot not once but three times, four, constantly struggling against the effects of the stunner. He sees that Teyla’s landed on a padded bench, out cold, still gripping a datapad tightly. On it are the Cole’s notes for the important details they’ve worked out they need to include in this negotiation.

"The hell!" he cries, grabbing for his gun. "We had a deal!"

The Wraith only smiles thinly. "They would prefer to talk with me alone."

"We’re gonna negotiate, and that usually, you know, includes all parties affected by said negotiation also partaking in it."

"This I know. Which is why you have not been stunned like the others," the Wraith remarks, stepping out of the jumper. John still hasn’t let go of his gun. "You need not worry, Colonel Sheppard. Your team will not be harmed, I can ensure that."

"Oh, right, because we trust you," John mutters, but can’t see what other choice they’ve got. They’re trapped on a hive ship, and it’s all their own fault. "Why exactly am I and not anyone else conscious, huh?"

"You will speak for Atlantis," is all the Wraith says. He gestures with his hand, toward the datapad on the ground. "Maybe you ought to bring that, since it seemed important."

 _Come quietly_  is what is means. And what’s he meant to do? He’s alone, versus several armed (possibly quite hungry) Wraith, one of which is standing just three feet away. There’s no way he could take them all down.

"My team won’t be harmed," he says, sternly, a murmur, and the Wraith smiles thinly.

"That was the deal. Now, we must begin. The others are already waiting."

* * *

The corridors are cold and dim, and John’s knuckles are white, brow tense. He foregoes the datapad. He’s memorised the details anyway and he prefers to have his hands free. Easier in case he has to fight, to flee. At least they let him keep his gun. And there are no stunners pointed at him anymore. They’d let him close the jumper’s hatch, meaning he’s the only one who can open the ship again so, for now, his team are safe. Sort of. But he’s being led through the ship like a prisoner. In case things suddenly start going downhill, he has nowhere to go.

The Wraith - getting damn confusing now not to have a single name for any of them - are already waiting in this room which is sort of like a conference room, dominated at the centre by a large table. Various consoles line the walls. It’s not like a Queen’s chamber with a throne, but simpler, less flashy. A quick head count reveals there are twelve Wraith in there similar to the - ally? not-quite-enemy? - that’s been held prisoner in Atlantis ever since he came to them with news of the Replicator’s new tactics.

Needs to call him something. Maybe ’Todd’, like that pale guy he knew in college. Had the similar kind of attitude. Well, minus the whole alien eating-via-the-hand thing.

They’re all dressed up fancy in black robes, white hair neatly braided. Much neater than Todd’s. And there, in their midst, is a Queen. Rather small, perhaps not in stature but ... aura? Yes. Her presence isn’t that strong and deadly and terrifying, not like other Queens John has unfortunately met over the years.

Maybe that’s why she’s here. The stronger ones don’t ask for or give help. Especially not dealing with humans.

They’re sitting there silently and maybe communicating telepathically, turning their heads as one as they enter the chamber. There are drones guarding the doors, but not allowed inside. John can’t see any weapons.

Great. Twelve Wraith. One for each ship that Todd has promised to bring to the fight. Sounds like the beginning of an awful joke, John thinks: ’Twelve Wraith and a pilot walked aboard a Hive ...’ (the punchline would suck. Probably literally.)

"Commander," greets one of them. It’s got a marking across its temple and eyes like the slash of a knife. It looks rather young, compared to the others but then, with Wraith, who could tell?

Todd takes seat. John remains standing, stiffly, insistently aware of his vulnerability, of twelve pair of eyes on him. There’s a mix of confusion, of disdain, of even bemusement like this is indeed the beginning of a bad joke and they’re the ones telling it. And he can sense the gazes on his pregnant belly. He wonders if they somehow can smell it, the presence of an unborn human child in their midst.

"We aren’t late, I hope," the-one-now-named-Todd says. So arrogantly calm and a little bit amused, like this is an everyday occurrence.

"Who is this human?" sneers the Queen. At least she isn’t trying to control his mind or anything, yet. But John keeps a finger close to the trigger anyway.

Right. "Lt. Colonel John Sheppard," he says.

"Sheppard shall speak for the Lanteans," Todd says. "Oh, do take seat."

He would much rather remain standing. Easier to shoot and to run. To fight. Every instinct is screaming at him to get the hell out of there right now, but he can’t refuse. Then they might get upset and eat him for his impudence. Wouldn’t that be great.

"Now, to business."

* * *

It turns out half the time they’re communicating telepathically, half the time in what has to be the Wraith tongue - John has seen it written before, but not spoken aloud. It sounds quite a lot like Ancient, except twisted, harsher, some of the sounds there all foreign. He cannot guess what half of it means.

However, instead of merely letting him sit there, Todd is translating back and forth. Patiently, almost. John is taken aback, unsure how to react so he plaster on his greeting-the-natives pleasant grin, and recites the demands they’d agreed on in Atlantis. How many ships they need, enough details about the plans for the Wraith to consider it. Assurances that once this is over, they’ll go separate ways, and that the Wraith won’t actually attack any human ships during this operation.

(They’ve already threatened Todd enough for the Wraith to know that if he ever reveals the location of Atlantis, he’ll be shot, preferably in the head so he can’t grow a new one. They have nothing but words, here, to hold onto.)

All in all, it’s an hour full of very unexpected firsts, and John tries taking it in stride. He guesses some people back in Atlantis may get all grabby-hands over the intel he’s gathering by just being here; this rare glimpse into Wraith politics. He’s gotten used to being stared at by humans, but by Wraith is a whole other matter, and his body is constantly tense. Trapped in a sense of fight-or-flight and, being this outnumbered (though they haven’t taken his weapons) he’s leaning more toward the flight part of things. Several of them are sending uncovered looks of disdain, or possibly astonishment, and resentment; they’re not used to having their food talking back to them. Or talking to them, with them, at all. Plus there’s this weird fascination they seem to have with his pregnant belly.

"Non-negotiable," states one of them (whom John has silently nicknamed Tim), sternly, when John tries to edge in a condition of more ships; twelve, Todd had said - or ’Commander’ as they call him, here, though if the Wraith has an actual real name is still a mystery. But several have withdrawn for various reasons. "These are the ships whose support we can offer - no more."

They wonder why the humans only have two ships - and that had hurt a bit to admit, their vulnerability. The Wraith may grow new ships - takes a while, years, but they have time - while Atlantis operates on limited resources. Two puny ships. John is suddenly glad for those hours being grilled by the IOA, back underground on Earth, surrounded by grey walls. Thinking back on those interviews, it makes this almost seem easy.

Eventually, after a debate so strange it will probably haunt his dreams for years, it’s decided: seven ships will join them. Each individual commander or Queen - there’s only one of the latter - have a vote of their own, and several of them won’t risk their Hive in this daredevil move. Currently, with the Replicators attacking human worlds, they can save Hives by not engaging them directly. In this they have to trust a bunch of humans.

( _Not what I signed up for,_ John thinks, briefly; _I’m a pilot, not an interspecies negotiator._ )

Seven ships. It’s not what was promised, but it’s what they can get; no more can be swayed. Finally the debate is declared ended, and Todd stands, John following suite guessing this is their cue. The only one remaining sitting by the table is the Queen, which, supposedly, makes sense given the Wraith hierarchy. Not that John has spent a lot of time actually thinking about such things. He’s just relieved he’s managed to walk aboard a Hive and off it again without being eaten.

As they go, the Wraith let them pass by without hindrance but John rests his finger on the trigger all the way. Todd walks away proudly, no doubt wishing to appear as much as unlike a prisoner as possible - though that word doesn’t really apply in the same sense, anymore. They get to the Jumper, finding the hatch closed just as they’d left it. Within, Ronon and Teyla are still lying unconscious and very much alive. John releases a silent breath of relief.

As soon as they leave the hangar of the Hive, the ships gather for a hyperspace jump; John watches them go, making certain they’re really truly gone before he turns to check on Ronon and Teyla. He glances at the Wraith; Todd is sitting there all quiet and obedient, though smirking slightly in that odd way of his which John cannot discern. He keeps the Wraith constantly in the corner of his eye while he gently lays a hand on Teyla’s shoulder, shaking her awake. Both he and Ronon were hit more than once, which would explain why they’ve been out this long in the first place.

* * *

It takes about three minutes until they’re both awake, dazed and confused and aching a little. Teyla takes it with grace, though remains on constant vigil. The first thing Ronon does, unsurprisingly, is to surge upward, grabbing his gun, and point the muzzle at the Wraith’s head. Todd doesn't even flinch.

"Hey, hey," John cuts in. "It’s all right."

"What happened?" Teyla asks, as John somehow manages to maneuver Ronon to sit opposite of the Wraith, before getting back in the piloting chair.

"We got ourselves a deal of seven ships. Sorry, they stunned you both - not me, though," he adds, at the Athosian’s worried glance. "Was there for the negotiations. So, seven ships."

If anything the grip on his gun tightens; Ronon growls, "The promise was twelve."

"Yeah, well, not all of them were up for it," John shrugs. All he wants to do now is get back to Atlantis, give his report to Carter, and then hit the showers. Looking over his shoulder, he finds Ronon is giving the Wraith his most dangerous glare but Todd meets it with a half-amused sneer. Of course the Wraith wouldn’t be afraid of a human even if said human is pointing a weapon right at his face.

"Ronon, let it go. Take it as a compliment," he adds: "They were afraid of you."

The Satedan doesn’t move an inch, still staring at the Wraith angrily, gun aimed at it. Something to sort out later. Now’s not the time, and John can’t actually blame the alpha. He has more cause than most to hate the Wraith and to have woken up, confused and with pain from the stunners still echoing in his body, has done nothing to help that. But otherwise they’re OK, uninjured. The rest they’ll check later.

As they move through space, John gives them an abbreviated version of events; the meeting, how all of the hives had jumped to hyperspace afterward and gotten out of there - leaving behind nothing but the word that they’d show up at the rendezvous point. They’ve got no choice but to trust them on this.

Teyla takes it better than the Satedan, thought she glances at him concernedly. "Are you sure you are unharmed?" she asks quietly, and John nods. No Wraith had laid a hand on him (which was a very refreshing change) even if the whole thing had been very weird and rather creepy.

* * *

They’re nearing the Stargate and Teyla has punched two symbols into the DHD when suddenly there’s a warning, and one second later a large hyperspace window has formed right in front of them. And an Ancestral warship heads out of it, directly toward them and John hits the controls frantically, narrowly skimming over the huge ship’s hull, across the right side of it, avoiding crashing into it by a hair’s width.

"Replicators," John mutters, tension flaring. "Dial the Gate."

But no one starts shooting at them. Instead they’re hailed by radio and it’s too late to run and hide. Cloaking would make no difference - whosoever is on that ship knows they’re here, and could start shooting blind and probably destroy them on their approach to the Gate.

_"Sheppard, that had better not be you."_

"Larrin?" John asks, surprised. And then it all makes sense.

Ronon growls loudly, and John has to gesture for him to sit back down. He remembers, with clarity, the exact words the ex-Runner had told Larrin before they’d parted from the Travelers last time - the first time - that they met. _If I meet you again, I’ll kill you - I don’t forget_. Evidently Ronon hadn’t lied. _OK, best not let those two come face to face like ever again._

He activates the video feed. Larrin is standing at must what be the bridge, now alight and full with people at work. They must have figured out a way to fly the ship even without a natural gene-carrier onboard. Some gene therapy of their own maybe.

She looks quite pissed, and intrigued. _"What are **you** doing out here?"_ she asks.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he retorts.

_"We picked up on seven Hives orbiting a single planet. Seemed like something big was going on, so I thought we’d stop and do a little intel."_

"Yeah, well, you just missed them."

_"I see that. Now tell me, what are you doing here and, better yet, why didn’t they destroy your puny little ship?"_

"I take quite offence to that," he says. But he’s aware that she’s onboard a warship and there are some bigs guns they’ve got access too, and if she decides to open fire, or just kidnap them or something, it’d be far too easy for them. And this idea starts blooming because she’s got a warship - with now nine ships on the Lantean side, they’re still vastly outnumbered. Maybe, maybe he could convince her to help them out. She and her people must want the Replicators dead and gone as must as they. They may not have a planet or colony of their own, but they still rely on trading and landing at various places to survive in the long run. "But those are all good questions, so, we should talk."

 _"Yes, we should,"_ she says, just that edge of condescending. He remembers that the video feed is one-way so she can’t see his face, or the fact that in the seat right behind him sits a Wraith, living and breathing. Or that Ronon has taken to glaring between the windscreen, where Larrin’s face is projected, and at the Wraith in turn. _"Use bay three."_

"Receiving transmission," Teyla says, reading from the datapad linked to the jumper’s systems. She looks at the omega, who nods. A quick look at the data reveals that it’s a basic schematic, pointing out where exactly this hangar bay is - John recognizes it, remembers it. That’s the one that the Travelers’ transport vessel had used when they’d kidnapped him and Ronon, when bringing him aboard the warship.

Then the connection cuts off without another word.

"Right," he says, directing the jumper that way. "Let’s see what kind of mood she’s in."

* * *

There is, of course, the hitch that they got a Wraith on board - one who looks rather amused and not that bothered, honestly - and Larrin, when she sees this, is not too happy about it. There are three guys with guns waiting outside as the hatch is lowered, and Ronon has, in a flash, stepped out front like a shield, weapon fixed right on Larrin. Teyla, for her part, has raised her P-90 but she is much more reserved and calm, and there is no anger on her face, just carefully guarded caution.

"Look, wait, we can explain," John says hurriedly when Larrin orders to have the Wraith killed.

"Really," she says. She looks at him, eyes narrowed, at his face and then at his body, his swollen belly. Has to look a bit weird, he reflects, this odd party, two alphas, one pregnant omega and a Wraith. And she has good reason to react the way she does. "That Wraith better be a prisoner."

"Uh, yeah, sort of, yes," he says, shooting the Wraith a warning look. Todd stands there silent, that look on his face that John has seen in the past, difficult to read but then the Wraith inclines his head. Shit, maybe should’ve put on his bindings again before landing in the hangar bay.

"One move and we’ll kill it," she says.

"Yeah," he nods. Another warning look. "Ronon, stay here and guard the jumper." The underlying words are _Don’t do anything stupid now,_ and the Satedan grunts a reluctant affirmative. Then John turns to Larrin again. "Anyplace we could talk?"

"Follow me," she says.

"Teyla," John murmurs, and the alpha falls into step with him. Just as a precaution, John decides to close the hatch and he doesn’t even need to press a button, he just thinks it and the jumper obeys. Better that way; then Ronon will keep an eye on Todd, Larrin will be soothed that the Wraith won’t be let loose on her ship, and Ronon can go on a spree with the goal of bashing Larrin’s head in.

* * *

Larrin is pacing, chewing on the words. "So, the idea is to keep the Replicator ships from leaving orbit until this McKay guy can suck them back to the planet."

"Couldn’t have put it better myself."

"And since you only have two ships..."

"...we need the Wraith’s help. We figure the Replicators have close to thirty ships guarding the surface, the Wraith bring another seven to the fight."

"It’s still not very good odds."

"No, but unless we - I don’t know - _meet someone with access to ships,_ it’ll have to do."

She stops pacing. Turns to him with a serious pace. This time, unlike last, he hasn’t been tied down or beaten; instead they’re speaking like equals. Or nearly, at least. Better than last time, anyway. "One of the planets we trade with was completely wiped out a few weeks ago. We thought it was the Wraith but it didn't fit. They weren’t culled – they were levelled."

"That was the work of Replicators," Teyla intones, gently. They too have lost allies this way. Too many lives turned to dust.

Larrin takes seat in front of them, and looks at the omega sharply. "Last time we met, I said I’d let you keep a few secrets - but not any more. If we do this, we go all the way. No holding back. I need to know who you people really are."

Understandable terms, and they really need those ships to help them. A single warship could turn the tide. "All right. Look – your ship is still a mess. We have scientists that have the Ancient gene. Maybe they can help you soup it up."

"Well, I'll have to talk to our Governing Council, but even if they agree to move forward, it’ll be up to the individual ship captains if they wanna join us or not – and fighting alongside the Wraith isn’t gonna be popular."

"Well, we know how persuasive you can be."

Thankfully she doesn’t take it in a bad way, just nods. "I'll start making the calls."

* * *

The return to Atlantis is rapid and quiet and tense.

John had left Larrin with an IDC, the current standard temporary-ally one, that one usually only handed out for emergencies; but Larrin needs some way to contact them. If, when, Carter clears this they’ll probably be given a new one, permanent, one which will be stored in the city’s database as belonging to the Travelers. Once Larrin has talked with the Council of her people, she said, she’ll go to a planet and dial the address he’s given her.

He’s not sure she’d believed him when he’d said that he and his people live in Atlantis; she’d heard rumours, years ago, that it had been destroyed - that siege during the first year of the expedition. But then she’d said: "It makes sense, though." Larrin had looked at him in a way that made it clear if she was wondering just how closely related to the Ancients he is. To most people in the Pegasus galaxy, the Ancestors are more than just story and myth.

As soon as they’ve landed in the jumper bay, Todd is being escorted away by a team of marines but his hands aren’t tied. He’s not just a prisoner anymore. He’s - well, John isn’t sure. A not-quite-almost-ally. As much as a Wraith can be an ally, anyway. And the Wraith isn’t chasing after anybody seeking to feed, or making threatening gestures. He’s compliant in that slightly humoured, defiant way, like this is just another game and he’s sure he’ll win and get out of here in no time. After all, he’s been stuck here for a few weeks but to a Wraith, that might just be the blink of an eye. Who knows who old Todd even is?

Anyway, John doesn’t linger on that. First he seeks out Carter, who’s in her office, meaning to tell her about this new arrangement with the Travelers, and that the Wraith offer seven ships.

However, he finds Rodney there too and Carter is shouting at him. It’s not very loud, it’s low, a tiny threat - mostly she seems annoyed. But warning bells are set off in John’s head.

" - should we do if it won’t work?" she’s saying, and Rodney shuffles with his feet.

"It will! Look, I’ve made sure it won’t do any harm."

"What won’t?" John announces his presence.

"Colonel," Sam nods in greeting. "Good to see you back. Well, there’s been a development."

Rodney turns to him, looking pensive. "See I tried fixing that program, uploading it onto a block of nanites I mean."

Oh, John does not like where this is going. "Rodney, you _didn’t._ "

"It was the only way! It wouldn’t stabilize otherwise, there was no cohesion whatsoever. Ironically it was too difficult to do the simple thing, so -" The alpha gestures at the nearby data screen. It shows the view from a security camera; the one in the lab with the Replicator building machine. And John’s hand tightens, automatically reaching for his nine mill.

There’s a human form Replicator wandering around down there. It can be nothing else.

"This is **not** what we talked about, Rodney!"

"Yeah, well, I’m sorry but the block idea didn’t fly. This was the only way."

John just stares at the data screen, at Rodney, in disbelief. Fuck. There’s a Replicator in Atlantis. And Carter is _allowing it to be there._  "Do you have any idea what kind of a security threat that is?!"

"It’s not as bad as you think," Rodney defends. "I stripped down its programming as much as I possibly could without sacrificing basic viability. It can walk, it can talk, but it can’t replicate or change its form or anything."

"Does she know why she was created?" Carter asks, a maybe philosophical question but to be honest John has had a long kind of bad day, his feet hurt, he’s cranky and now he’s come back home to find Rodney’s created a fucking _Replicator_ \- he’s allowed to be pissed and not care about that first hand. And now Carter’s talking about it like a real person, a creature, a living thing.

"Yeah, of course," Rodney says distractedly.

"Well, then she has a certain amount of self-awareness."

"Yeah, so?"

"So ... Honestly, I’m not sure how comfortable I am sending her to her death."

"Death? It can’t die. It’s not alive. It’s a program. I mean, its ’consciousness’ is just a bunch of ones and zeros. You can call it ’she’ all you want, but it’s still just a thing. It’s a prop. It’s a … it’s a really advanced, radio-controlled weapon. I mean, you don’t feel sorry for your bullets, do you, your bombs?"

"All right. Still. It’s weird."

"Yeah, well, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter anyways, because we don’t have any other choice."

This is the only plan they’ve got and time is running out.

John sighs. Gives in: has to. What else can they do? If Rodney says this is the only way to make that newly-written piece of nanite code to work ... "Well, we are teaming up with the Wraith. I guess it’s that kind of a mission."


End file.
